


i'll be somewhere in the clouds, i hope, tonight

by iamalystark



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Spencer Reid, Depressed Spencer Reid, Heavy Angst, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective David Rossi, Protective Derek Morgan, Protective Emily Prentiss, Protective Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Sad Spencer Reid, Sad with a Happy Ending, Spencer Reid Angst, Spencer Reid Gets a Hug, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer Reid Whump, Suicidal Spencer Reid, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalystark/pseuds/iamalystark
Summary: Reid can tell himself that it wasn't his fault for feeling the way he does or that the odds were just not in his favor, but he is the one that willingly picked up his first blade and continued to pick it up over and over and over again. He is the one that bought that bottle of pills and took every single one of them. He is the one that is swaying where he stands in his bathroom because he's about to die.(Or, Spencer tries to kill himself.)
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi
Comments: 23
Kudos: 226





	1. suicide, baby, it's the worst

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the tags guys!! this fic deals with very dark topics and i don't want anyone to get triggered, this is my first work in the criminal minds fandom seeing as i started the show a few weeks ago, so forgive me if they're all a bit ooc. im only on season 10 btw so no spoilers past that point in the comments please :)
> 
> the work and chapter titles come from the song suicide by isaac dunbar

Spencer Reid has wanted to kill himself since he was twelve years old. His father leaving and his mother's condition had contributed to it, of course, but when the genius looked back on his life, he couldn't remember a time when he wasn't the way he is. 

He's surprised, honestly, that his team hasn't noticed, what with their notion that the BAU is a family. Shaking his head, Reid mentally berates himself for attacking them when he's the one that spends every second of every day trying to hide from them. 

He used to be able to roll his sleeves up when it was hot out during a case. He stopped. Nobody noticed. He used to be able to smile and laugh and really mean it. He stopped. Nobody noticed. 

Huffing out a deep sigh through his nose, Reid runs his hands through his tangled hair. The man woke up a mere few minutes before, and he's already looking forward to going back to sleep. 

Maybe a long time ago, he would have tried to convince himself that it was all in his head (logically, he knows it is), that there wasn't anything really wrong with him. Now, he knows that he's different. Not just with his eidetic memory or his smarts. He's different in the way that when he wakes up, he wishes he hadn't. 

He's different in the way that no matter how many times someone says they care, he doubts them. He's different in the way that when someone makes a joke, he has to force a laugh. He's different in the way that when everyone else is happy and upbeat, he's wondering why he's even alive. 

As Spencer looks down at his bare arms, his sleeves pushed up in the comfort of his apartment, he begins to brush his fingers over his scars. Nobody would expect it, nobody really knew it, but suicide rates were 3.5 times higher for men than they were for women. It's highest among middle-aged white men, who accounted for almost 70% of suicides in the last year. He wasn't quite middle aged yet, but the similarities were there. 

It was also said that men chose more lethal means of suicide, but Reid knows that if he ever finally got the nerve, he wouldn't be able to stare down the barrel of a gun or tie a rope around his neck. He'd likely just down a bottle of pills or cut a little too deep. Maybe it was considered a more feminine way, but he wouldn't be around to care, would he?

A deep sigh leaves the young man's lips, and he finally makes himself get up, smoothing the anguish from his features. He's okay.

* * *

Reid shows up for work a bit later than normal, but still early enough to not be a cause for worry. JJ and Morgan are already there, and he doesn't have to look towards the office to know Hotch is there. Hotch is always there. 

"Hey, Pretty boy! Late night?" Derek calls, a half grin on his face from something JJ said, and it takes Spencer a split-second to process that he should be responding. 

"Yeah, actually. I found this book on how different types of mental illnesses influence the way people look, but it's actually really inaccurate. Mental illnesses can't change facial features at all, but the way people take care of themselves can change how-"

"I'm sorry," JJ laughs, "I love what your definition of a late night is. Stay you, Spence."

He gives a small grin at her cutting him off and veers toward his desk. Mentally berating himself, he knows how stupid he is to have brought up mental illnesses when they were the only things about himself he doesn't want anyone to know about. 

Logically, he knows Morgan and JJ are still talking and didn't think anything of his rant. Emotionally, he thinks they're worried now, they're wondering what's wrong with him. Irrationally, he wonders if they even care at all.

A frustrated breath leaves his lips, and with no one looking at him, Reid lowers his head and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration at himself. He's so tired. Even without the insomnia he's been suffering with since long before he joined the BAU, his thoughts and constant calculating take so much out of him. It didn't used to. 

Spencer didn't used to be as bad as he is now. He didn't used to want to go to sleep the second he woke up, and he didn't used to have to hide his arms and thighs from anyone. He didn't used to be like this. 

"-eid. Reid, hello?"

Spencer's head snaps up, locking eyes with Prentiss. "Emily, hi. What's up?"

"Hotch has a case for us," the dark haired woman tells him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You okay?"

"Of course." He knows she's profiling him, trying to find out what's going through his mind, so he fakes it as best as he can, slinging his messenger bag back over his shoulder and walking off like there's really nothing wrong. 

Reid sort of wishes he could convince his mind of that.

* * *

When he woke up that morning, Reid thought that today was going to be a bad day. More and more lately, the bad days were outweighing the good. He was wrong, though. It was one of the rare moments where he was wrong. 

Instead of the deep ache he's become accustomed to and the weary tiredness behind his eyes, everything starts to go numb. The stress that had been weighing on him just doesn't matter anymore, and his sadness is just pushed to the side. He feels like nothing.

It was a local case, one that hadn't even taken a full day to solve, and Hotch told everyone to go home early. 

"Do you guys want to come over? I can make pasta again," Rossi suggests, raising his brows as they're all on their way out. Maybe if he didn't feel the way he does, Spencer would agree, would plaster on a smile and try to get through it without drawing suspicion. 

Now?

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ and Garcia all immediately agree, and Hotch even says he'll try to make it once he's finished with his paperwork. Spencer can only stare, his mind racing like always. 

"What about you, kid? You coming?" The older man asks, and suddenly all of their eyes are on him. "You know I need my sous chef."

Reid forces a smile, and he lies, "I'm actually pretty tired. Didn't get much sleep last night. Next time?"

They don't notice that the grin isn't real, and they sound a bit disappointed with him, but Reid knows that they'll be fine without him. They'll have to be, won't they?

It almost startles him, his thought. It's like he decided before he even realized. This was it, wasn't it? He's finally just. . . done. "Bye, guys," Spencer mumbles softly, going to leave. 

The small upward tug of his lips is real as they all call back their respective goodbyes with personalized nicknames. Pretty boy from Morgan. Junior G-man from PG. Spence from JJ. Kid from Rossi, of course, and a simple Reid from Emily and Hotch. 

As he walks out, it registers that he will never hear them say his name again. It hurts, but it's also freeing. For the first time in a long time, there's a weight lifted off his shoulders, and he can breathe.

* * *

There's a full bottle of aspirin in his bathroom cabinet, the seal never broken. He got it for this exact reason. Reid didn't know when, didn't know if he'd ever actually do it, but he'd seen it at the store and just knew that if he ever opened that bottle, it would be for the sole purpose of killing himself. 

Almost mechanically, he opens it. His hands shake, and a few pills drop into his palm. Reid puts them in his mouth on instinct and turns on the faucet, bending to down the medicine. The genius shakes a few more pills into his hand, on purpose this time, and repeats his actions. His eyes follow his actions every time, and it's not long before he goes to shake out more pills and there's none left. 

The plastic bottle clatters from Spencer's hands, bouncing off of the edge of the sink and rolling across the floor. He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, like he has always been. Awkward and loud and too much and _him_. 

And then he thinks. 

Nearly one in ten men experience depression and anxiety. Men experience a higher rate of suicide than women. Odds for having deliberately self-harmed in men were 5.5%.

Reid can tell himself that it wasn't his fault for feeling the way he does or that the odds were just not in his favor, but he is the one that willingly picked up his first blade and continued to pick it up over and over and over again. He is the one that bought that bottle of pills and took every single one of them. He is the one that is swaying where he stands in his bathroom because he's about to die.   
It is his fault.

Not the team's, not the many, many unsubs they've caught, not his mom, not his dad. Him. Thinking of his mother has him frowning. What would she think? He didn't even write a note. He'd just be gone, and every time she forgot, her doctors would have to tell her all over again. Or would they just say he can't visit, to spare her the pain? No, no, no, he has to write her a note. 

As quickly as he can without falling, Reid makes his way out to the living room, flipping over a random paper and using the back to write a goodbye. 

_I'm sorry, Mom. I just can't do this anymore. It's not your fault. I love you so_

He stops writing when he realizes there are little droplets landing on the page. Tears. A sharp pang of pain hits his stomach and a strangled groan leaves him, one arm curling around himself. Now that he knows he's crying he's aware of how his whole body is soaked in sweat and how he's shaking so violently he doesn't know how he managed to write down the few words he had. And the pain. 

His stomach _hurts_. 

It's not numb anymore. He's not numb anymore. He can feel every ache and pain and he begins to cry. How will his mother get the unfinished note? 

He didn't even write one for the team. For JJ, or Emily, or Morgan, or Hotch. And Garcia, she deserves one. Hell, even Rossi. Spencer knows his team cares about him, he knows they worry, it's why he has to hide from them. Oh God, someone's going to find him and it's likely going to be Hotch or Derek, and he won't even have a fucking note. 

Oh God, and Henry. What will they tell Henry? Even Jack will wonder where he went. A broken sob wracks Reid's frame, and it's not long before he's weeping. He didn't get to say goodbye. 

He wouldn't get to teach Henry more magic tricks or tell Jack funny stories about his dad. He wouldn't have the team teasing him over his extreme use of sugar in his coffee, he wouldn't be able to rant about the amount on knowledge in his head. He wouldn't be Pretty boy or Spence or Junior G-man or Boy wonder, or _anything_. 

He would be gone. As he stumbles to the ground, gasping and crying, Spencer realizes something. He doesn't want to die. "D'n't wan' die," he sobs, his words slurring, and he locks his eyes onto his phone. He needs to call for help. 

Trembling, he manages to pull himself up to his hands and knees and painstakingly begins to crawl toward the phone, crying out with every movement because it hurts, but still moving anyway. Finally, he's there, and he's reaching for it, but he just can't hold himself up any longer, crumpling to the ground with a weak sob. 

Determined, even with his blurring vision, Spencer hits his arm against the small table holding it up. Once, twice, three times until it falls and the phone is finally within his reach. 

He should call 911, he knows he should. They'd be the only ones who could save him. But what if they don't arrive on time? The team still won't know why. They won't know he wanted to live. So instead, he puts in Hotch's number, and presses the phone to his ear, closing his eyes. 

" _Reid_?" Comes the voice of his boss, and he almost sobs right there. 

"H'tch," he cries, relieved. Tears streak down his face. 

" _Reid? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"_ Hotch demands, his tone immediately worried. 

"I t'k- I t'k pills. 'm sorry."

_"Pills? What pills, Reid? Where are you?"_

"'m home. T'k pain m'ds," Spencer slurs, his eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

" _How many, Reid_?" How many what? What was he counting? " _Spencer! How many pills did you take_?"

"All 'f them. 'm sorry H'tch. D'n't wan' die 'nymore," he whispers, his hand feeling weak. Why is the phone so heavy?

" _Hey, you're going to be alright, okay? Morgan, call an ambulance! Reid, I'm here, alright? We're all here_ ," Hotch tells him. His voice sounds funny. It's wobbly. Different. 

"D'n't see you," Reid replies, looking around. Then his fingers can't hold onto the phone anymore, and it drops to the ground with a clatter, making him flinch. 

"'m sorry, 'm sorry, 'm s'rry. . ." He cries, gasping and sobbing again. He doesn't know what he's sorry for. 

"D'n't wan' die. . ." Spencer says, and then he does.


	2. think about the people that you'll hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for being so kind🧡

He wakes to a beeping noise, and he knows. Either he hadn't died, and he'd been saved in time, or he had, and he'd been brought back. But he's alive, and he's in a hospital, and he can hear JJ and Emily talking softly beside him. 

"I just don't. . . The doctor said that some of them are years old. How could we not- How could _I_ not see?" JJ whispered, her voice breaking, and she broke Reid's heart right along with it. 

"Not your fault," Spencer rasps, his throat dry and eyes just barely peeking open. 

"Spencer!" The blonde cries, turning to him with red eyes and clear tear tracks on her cheeks. He hates that he caused that.

"Hi, Jayje."

She immediately bends over him to wrap her arms around him, and Spencer returns the hug carefully, aware that there's an IV in his arm. 

"Oh my God, Spence. I'm so sorry I didn't notice, I should've noticed-" She begins as she pulls away, her eyes shining. 

"Not your fault," Reid repeats, his brows furrowing. 

"But-"

"But, I've had depression since I was a kid. It's not your fault," he insists. 

Emily has been staring at him the whole time, her face pulled tight in pain. "God, Reid. We love you, I hope you know that," she says, and then she hugs him just like JJ had. 

JJ puts her phone to her ear, catching Reid's attention, and he watches her. "Hey, Hotch. He's awake."

JJ listens to something he says, then turns to him. "Do you want to see everyone?"

Spencer frowns. "Shouldn't they be at work?"

"Spence, you can't seriously think any of us could be working while you're in the hospital?" She gapes, blinking rapidly. 

He shrugs. "Done it before."

Her mouth falls open. So does Emily's. "Reid. . ." The darker haired woman breathes, but he doesn't meet her eyes, simply nodding to JJ. 

"Y-You guys can come," she tells them, and hangs up. Reid doesn't meet her eyes, doesn't meet either of their eyes. He can't believe how stupid he'd been. 

He tried to kill himself with absolutely no preparation or thoughts on how he would affect those around him. Now they know. They all know about his scars and his mental health and how he wants to die. Wanted to. He doesn't know anymore. 

"Spencer," JJ whispers, curling her fingers around his. She sounds like she's crying. "We love you. All of us, so, so much."

"Love you too," Reid whispers right back, not sure what else he can say. It's true, he does love all of them. 

They mean as much to him as his mother does, he can just never quite convince himself of how much they care. 

(They love him, they said so, but it could just be pity. Do they really mean it?)

"Hey, Reid," a soft voice calls from the doorway, and his head snaps up. Penelope is there, a sad smile on her face, and the rest of the team are right behind her. 

"Hi."

"How do you feel, kiddo?" Rossi asks as they all enter the room. Spencer can't meet their eyes. (That's beginning to become a theme.) 

"Fine," he shrugs. 

"The truth, Reid," Hotch says, a deep frown set on his face. Spencer feels guilty for adding more frown lines to Hotch's face. The man doesn't deserve it. 

Swallowing, Reid takes notice of his sore stomach and chest. His chest has felt like that before. "Sore," he answers truthfully, meekly. 

Hotch nods. "They had to do CPR and pump your stomach, Spencer."

The genius nearly flinches at his first name coming out of his boss's mouth, and knows this is serious. This isn't something they can forget about or push aside. Briefly, he wonders if he'll be fired, but pushes the thought aside because his team really doesn't need to see him panicking. 

"I'm sorry," Reid rasps, his voice beginning to shake.

"Kid, we're not mad at you," Derek says, and when Spencer looks up at him, he sees that Morgan is close to crying, and probably already had been. 

"You should be," he says before he can stop himself, scoffing self-depreciatively, and tears burn at the back of his eyes. "I- I was stupid. I shouldn't have-"

"Reid, we're not upset at you. If anything, we're mad at ourselves. I'm mad at myself for not noticing-"

"I was trying to hide it from you guys!" Spencer cries, and a tear escapes his eye, streaking down his face before he can stop it. 

"We're profilers, Reid. We should have noticed that you weren't okay," Hotch says firmly. They all have the same looks on their faces, making Spencer deflate. Nothing he can say will convince them otherwise. 

"It's my fault," he tells them, a sob clawing its way up his throat and escaping him before he can stop it. He tells himself those three words every single day, and it's always about something different. 

The Hankel case. Maeve. This. _Everything_ is his fault and he doesn't get why his family cares at all. "We care _because_ we're family, kid," Rossi says, and Reid realizes that he said it out loud, his cheeks flaming. 

"Even if we weren't profilers, we're your team. We're your _family_. Family notices. You can tell yourself its your fault but it just ain't true," Morgan voiced, sighing. They were all surrounding him, watching him, and with anyone else he might've felt suffocated and boxed in. 

With them, though?

Spencer begins to realize that they do care, and they care so much more than he ever could have thought. "I'm sorry we weren't there before, kid, but we're here now. We're all here," Morgan continues, his brows furrowed in concern. 

With tears streaking down his face, his hand clenched tightly in JJ's, his ~~friends~~ family surrounding him, Spencer Reid finally wants to live.


End file.
